


place my wants and needs over your resistance

by OurEchoes



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, Rimming, canon typical usage of ableist slurs, porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurEchoes/pseuds/OurEchoes
Summary: Michael messes up. Trevor takes advantage of the situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much an excuse to do a fic with rimming.

Honestly, he should have known better.

“Jesus, I hate that bitch.”

It was as if Michael’s carefully placed filter had shut off. Maybe his brain, too. As soon as it’s out there, there’s a dead quiet for a few beats, the silence louder than it has any right to be.

“What the fuck did you just call my mother?”

Michael swallows nothing and takes a deep breath, hands already palms up in submission.

“Hey, T, baby, _look_ -”

“No, no, no. Don’t you fucking _‘baby’_ me, Townley!” Trevor says, his body already tense as he starts back from the kitchen. Michael leans heavily into the sofa, hoping he won’t have to fight his sorta-kinda-partner in the middle of the living room, lit off his ass. “You just called my mom a _bitch_!”

Michael races through his options here, trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation. There’s a lot of things Michael can say to Trevor that won’t end in blood (that likely would for anyone else), but this isn’t one of them. They know each other too goddamned well for Michael to _not_ fully expect the both of them to end up in the ER because of this. The alcohol isn’t exactly helping, either.

“I-I did, Trev, and I’m _sorry_ , but-”

“But what?! There’s no excuse for this! You called her a _bitch_ to my face, you asshole!”

Trevor’s pacing now, like he always does when he’s wound up, and Michael can see the veins on his arms growing taut against his muscles. It’d be attractive if he weren’t the source of that tension.

“I’m drunk, Trevor! It just.. Slipped out. I wouldn’t call her that if I weren’t drunk.” he says, standing up from the sofa. It’s probably a very dangerous idea, but he places a hand on Trevor’s bicep, scrambling to get it across to him that he’s sorry. He’s not, the woman is a total bitch, but he can’t have Trevor knowing that.

Trevor stops his pacing and looks down at Michael’s hand like its alien to him, his eyes wide and rapidly glancing around.

“But you feel that way about her, don’t you? You think she’s a bitch?”

Michael drops his hand away, trying to steel his features. Trevor stares him straight on.

“No. No I don’t.”

Trevor narrows his eyes, his chest still rising quickly.

“I don’t believe you.” he says, finally, shaking his head as he crowds into Michael’s space. And Michael mentally prepares for the worst, sure that Trevor will follow it up with a swift punch to the gut, but nothing comes. He just stands there, staring at him with a confused look in his eye. Michael sighs.

“I don’t know what it is that you want me to say, T.” he groans, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry I don’t particularly care for the woman.”

Trevor scoffs, looking taken aback.

“And _why not_?”

Michael frowns.

“You fucking _know_ why.” His fists curl of their own volition and Michael has to bite his tongue to keep from saying any more.

Trevor looks off then, turning away from Michael and letting out a breath.

“Fucking.. Fine, okay, you don’t have to like her.” he says, his back to Michael. “But.. You’re not let off the hook, _Mikey_. You called her a bitch. That’s taking it too far.”

Michael rolls his eyes, thankful that Trevor can’t see him. He rubs at his temple, trying to ease the oncoming headache he’s sure he’ll be getting any moment now.

“So, what? You’re just gonna pout and not talk to me?”

Trevor laughs, turning around to face Michael again.

“Oh, no no no. I’m not a _child_ , Michael.” he stalks over to the sofa, plopping down intently. He grabs for the remote and switches on the TV.

Michael raises a brow. Trevor ignores him, so Michael sighs again and sits down beside him. He’s still waiting for the ball to drop, but at least it doesn’t seem like Trevor will be murdering him. Not tonight, anyways.

They sit quiet, watching some mindless reality show for awhile. Eventually, Michael leans into Trevor just slightly, enough to feel a comforting warmth against his side. They haven’t fucked today, and it’s been at least two hours since their fight, so Michael starts to run his hand up Trevor’s knee, waiting for the telltale chuckle that typically accompanies his 'subtle’ pleas for sex.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Trevor says instead. Michael’s about to laugh and ask why he sounds so affronted when Trevor picks up his hand and sets it back into his own lap. Michael frowns.

“Uh, since when do you turn down a hand job?”

Trevor scoots away on the sofa, a smug grin on his face.

“Since you called my mother a bitch.” he says defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Michael scoffs and continues to stare at him, but Trevor doesn’t even glance his direction. His skin feels a little flushed with indignation, but Michael manages to turn back to the TV, his posture a mirror of Trevor’s.

“Fucking _fine_ then.”

-

When he was married to Amanda, Michael became pretty accustomed to going long periods of time without sex. Whenever they’d get in a fight or after she’d started sleeping around because of his own infidelity, he knew he’d be looking at a couple of months of alone time with his hand.

And it was fine. Sure, Michael visited the occasional escort on the nights he was especially lonely and horny, but overall, jacking it got the job done. It was just how things were.

That’s not how things are with Trevor, though.

Soon as he and Trevor broke that threshold after his divorce, it was like a dam of pent up frustration had broken. They had missed twenty years worth of sex together and he’s pretty positive Trevor was making up for lost time. Michael was, too, if he’s being honest.

They’d fucked in every room, surface, and position they could throughout his house and even the grimy, cockroach fest that is Trevor’s place. This has been going on for _months_ now, too. If it’s a 'honeymoon phase’ as they call it, it’s a fucking long one.

But then Michael had to go and call Mrs. Philips a bitch. So he’s been stuck with his hand again for the past two weeks.

He’s tried everything; reasoning with him, offering him endless blow jobs, even going so far as to say Trevor can fuck him for once. Hell, he’d probably enjoy it at this point. But _nothing_ will stick. Trevor just shakes his head and goes on ignoring his requests. Michael’s apologized profusely, but there’s really only so much he can say when he’s trying his best to not lie to Trevor anymore.

Tonight, he might have to break that effort, he’s decided. Because Trevor is just purposefully being a goddamn _tease_ now.

“Ugh, sorry, Mikey. It’s just such a small bed, you know?” he says after grinding his ass against Michael’s crotch. Michael has to remind himself he’s above holding Trevor down and fucking him anyways.

This does nothing to stop his mouth.

“Oh, for _fuck’s sake_ , T.” he says, balling his hands against his eye sockets. “What do you want from me, huh?”

Trevor hums faux innocently.

“M’ sorry, what’re you talking about, again?”

He looks over his shoulder back at Michael and Michael exhales hard against his skin.

“I’m fucking _dying_ here, Trev. I know I fucked up, I _know_ you’re mad at me. But are you really happy with the whole ' _not having sex_ ’ thing?”

Trevor snorts.

“Who said I’m not having sex?”

Michael glares hard into the side of his face.

“You fucking better be pulling my chain here. We made a _deal_ , T.”

Trevor sighs and turns his head forward again.

“Relax, Mikey, I’m not fucking anyone. Not even you, obviously.”

“That’s the problem here! _Why_ aren’t we fucking?”

Trevor shakes his head, his back tensing a little against Michael’s chest.

“You know why we’re not fucking, _Michael_. I’m still pissed at you, you dumbass!” he starts to turn around in Michael’s arms, his face a few inches from Michael’s now. “I don’t gotta lot of leverage, and I can’t beat the shit out of you, so if the only way I can get you to actually regret being a dickbag is to not get you laid, then so fucking be it. My dick will live.”

Michael frowns.

“I obviously regret my words. Now, can we please stop this?”

Trevor raises one scarred eyebrow as he quietly considers Michael’s words. It makes Michael feel antsy to be watched so closely, but he knows if he gives in Trevor won’t and they’ll just end up sleeping, so he stares back as hard as he can. Hopefully Trevor will get the picture, that Michael is serious. He licks his lips before he speaks again.

“You want to go back to fucking, huh?” he says, voice thick with something Michael can’t exactly place. “Fine. We can do that. I just got one demand of you.”

Michael fights off a relieved smile.

“ _Yes_ , whatever it is.”

Trevor is quiet again, for a moment, before a devilish smirk pulls at his mouth.

“I want you to eat my ass.”

Michael’s mouth drops open. Trevor’s smile widens.

“Wait, like.. Like eat out your asshole?”

“Yep.” he says, obviously ecstatic with himself.

Michael’s stomach drops.

That’s.. definitely not something they’ve done, yet. He’s not an idiot, he knows about the logistics of it and, hell, him and Amanda had tried to spice things up before, but this is _Trevor_ he’s talking about. Amanda’s ass and Trevor’s ass are worlds apart. He’s not even sure he liked Amanda’s, if he’s being honest.

Trevor tilts his head to look up into Michael’s eyes, snapping Michael back to the conversation at hand.

“What, M? You not man enough to eat your boyfriend’s ass out? _‘That a line you ain’t willing to cross’_?”

Michael furrows his brow.

“It’s fine, you know, I didn’t think you’d do it anyways, Mr. _I’m not into men but I sure do love sucking your dick, Trev_ -”

“I’ll do it.” Michael says, determined. “But you gotta clean the fuck up. I don’t care what that means to you, as long as I don’t get a mouthful of something I don’t want when we do this.”

Trevor’s mouth falls open a little, the surprise clear on his face even in the dark. He goes to say something but Michael leans in to cut him off, his mouth hard against Trevor’s chapped lips. He pushes until Trevor eases against him, tongue darting out to taste him. Michael bites down softly before pulling away and flipping over, content to leave Trevor a little breathless.

“That ass better be fucking spotless tomorrow, Trevor.”

-

Michael wakes up to an empty bed. He almost panics before hearing the water running, his arm twitching to reach for his phone and cuss out the very person taking said shower. He takes a breath and relaxes back into the pillows, thinking over the night before.

He’d agreed to give Trevor a rim job, hadn’t he?

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, a strange sense of trepidation and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

It’s not like he’s entirely opposed to it. It’s just that he’s not exactly looking forward to knowing what his best friend’s asshole tastes like, either. Though, he supposes, it’s not much of a step from knowing what his come tastes like.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, padding his way into the bathroom.

“Hey.” he says to the shower curtain. Trevor hums in acknowledgement.

“Hey, yourself.”

Michael considers saying more, worried that Trevor will accuse him of backing down, but the shower shuts off and the curtain pulls back and he’s got an eyeful of naked sociopath. He nods his head to the towel behind Michael and Michael turns to hand it to him.

He rubs at his balding head harshly and drags it over his eyes before tossing it to a bin in the corner.

“So, we gonna do this thing or not, cowboy?”

Michael tilts his head back in challenge.

“Soon as you get on the bed.”

Trevor licks his lips, watching Michael as he walks past him. Michael tears off his undershirt and kicks off his boxers, locking eyes with Trevor as he does so. There’s a hint of pink to Trevor’s face and it spurs Michael on, heats something deep in his belly, his cock stirring already.

“On your stomach.” he says, his voice heavy. Trevor licks his lips again, and turns over onto his stomach, long limbs just barely fitting fully onto the mattress. Michael puts a knee on the bed and positions himself between his legs, adjusting for enough room get comfortable, suddenly thankful for a larger bed.

Once he’s on his elbows, he stills, the buzz of confidence waning.

Trevor’s ass, in spite of its many scars and marks, is a _really_ nice ass. He’d realized this shortly after they first fucked. It’s muscular in a way not all of him is and has a particularly nice curve to it. It’s not unappealing to Michael in the least. But he’s not… keen on sticking his tongue in it.

Michael can feel Trevor shift uncomfortably.

“What? You backing out, Mikey?” he says.

It lacks the usual sureness that Trevor exudes and Michael starts to realize how self conscious he must be feeling with Michael’s head lingering over his ass. Trevor snorts and pushes himself onto his elbows.

“Just fucking like you, Michael. Get me all riled up and then back out the moment it’s, quite literally, _in your face_ -”

Michael growls and bites at the meat of his ass, teeth edging on painful, he’s sure. Trevor gasps, a light and airy thing. His head falls forward. Just seeing the reaction it brings settles it for Michael; he’s got to do this.

He licks at the teeth marks, watches them redden and the dents soften in his wake. He kisses a path up to the bottom notch of Trevor’s spine, soft hair tickling his mouth. He’s unusually quiet and Michael can feel how tense he is below him, the muscles of his thighs hard against his hands.

He traces his tongue down the dip of his ass, his hands moving to ease him apart. Trevor hisses lightly against his pillow, his legs parting further.

Michael pulls his head back and almost laughs when he sees that Trevor fucking _shaved_ for him. He figures pressing his tongue flat against the ring of muscle is a better 'thank you’ than words right now.

“Fuuuuck..” Trevor groans, his hips canting back into Michael’s face.

Michael wraps the tips of his fingers towards Trevor’s hips where he can reach them, running his tongue against his hole in a slow drag. He can feel a slight shake in Trevor’s hips when he repeats the action and finds himself going over it over and over again.

It’s surprising, really, that Trevor actually listened to him. He tastes like soap and skin, an overall rarely observed clean smell to him. Michael’s less surprised that his dick is completely okay with the course of events, hanging heavy between his legs. He wishes he could touch it but he’s barely even warmed Trevor up.

He circles his hole again, this time sucking hard on a finger and edging it beside his tongue. Trevor moans at the rough feel of calloused hands and Michael gets especially sloppy in hopes of it being enough to ease a finger in. His face feels disgustingly covered in spit when he’s slick enough, but he can’t bring himself to care when Trevor makes this throaty noise and pushes back farther, his muscles much more pliant now.

Michael is rough then, knowing exactly how Trevor likes this. He feels him give in easily, his body welcoming the intrusion. It’s enough of the same that Michael feels comfortable going back to put his tongue beside his hand, sucking gently at the sensitive skin he reaches.

“Fuck, _Mikey_. Sure this ain’t your first rodeo?”

Michael slaps at his ass hard in response. Trevor gasps again and Michael works in double time, his tongue fucking into Trevor alongside two fingers, his other hand roughly holding him open. Trevor keeps softly rutting against the bed, the sheets staining with precum.

Michael pulls his fingers out and dips his head further, pushing his tongue as far into Trevor as he can, these filthy, wet noises filling his ears.

“Oh, _Michael_ , fuck!” His voice is wrecked, scratchy and high pitched, and Michael loves every ounce of it, every heavy groan and gasp, wants to hear him fall apart every day for the rest of his fucking life. “ _Fuck, fuck, fuck-_ ”

Michael pulls his head away and slicks his fingers in again, fucking into him quickly. His face feels on fire, his skin red. He _needs_ Trevor.

“Please let me fuck you, T. _Please_.”

Trevor reaches for the night stand, yanking open the top drawer and tossing back the bottle of lube he finds. Michael feels relief sag his whole body as he coats his prick, the tension in his shoulders melting away when he lines up behind Trevor.

Trevor moves to his knees, his shoulders still pressed firmly into the mattress, and rubs back against Michael’s cock. It’s enough for Michael to give up his composure and thrust into him until his balls hit against Trevor’s ass. He groans, the familiar heat almost too much on his neglected cock.

“You feel so fuckin’ _good_ , baby.” he says, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself. His fingers dig deep into Trevor’s hips as he starts a slow, languid pace, his own hips moving in deep circles.

He wants to appreciate this, if only for a moment. The welcomed heat, the rough skin under his palms, the heavy breathing below him. It’s all so perfect, so absolutely wretchedly _perfect_ that Michael wonders why he ever held back, why he ever denied himself this. It seems so distant now, like a different lifetime.

Trevor’s hips are starting to impatiently snap back against his own and Michael takes the hint, pulling back until just the tip is in before slamming forward again. Trevor is knocked up the bed a bit and groans and Michael repeats it until he’s at a desperate and needy pace, their bodies hitting into each other almost painfully.

“Fuck, Michael, I- _fuck!_ \- love you, I love you so much, _Jesus_ -”

Michael reaches under Trevor’s hips, his hand on Trevor’s cock in time with his own thrusts, feeling him twitch and shake beneath him.

“I know, I know, T.” he manages to get out, his throat tight. “I got you. You’re all mine, baby, _I got you_.”

Trevor shouts into the crook of his arm what sounds a lot like Michael’s name, his orgasm shaking him hard as he comes into Michael’s fist, his body twitching around Michael just enough to have Michael following shortly behind.

“Fuck, _Trevor_ -” he groans, his head tilted back as he thrusts once, twice, before coming deep in his ass, his hips slowly riding out the aftershocks. He slips out when it’s too much, crawling up the bed and collapsing beside Trevor, chest still heaving with exhaustion.

When he opens his eyes again, Trevor’s got this soft look on his face.

“So, we good?” he asks. His voice is rough. Trevor seems to consider this.

“Think so.”

Michael nods, glancing at the mess they’ve made of his bed.

“Good.”

They’re both quiet then, catching their breath and enjoying the silent calm that’s washed over them. Michael’s disappointed when it ends.

“My mom is a bitch, Michael.” Trevor says.

Michael yanks his head to look back at Trevor.

“What?”

Trevor takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back, moving in closer to Michael’s outstretched arm.

“I said, my mom’s a bitch.” Trevor’s staring at the ceiling, his face neutral despite the brutal truth of the words. “She’s a fucking bitch and I _know_ that. But.. She’s my mother. So it doesn’t matter.”

Michael shakes his head, letting out a breath.

“Of course it does-”

“I _said_ it doesn’t fucking _matter_ , okay?” he looks at Michael now, his eyes deadly serious. There’s a rigid set to his shoulders, a sign that Michael takes as the warning it is.

“Okay.” Michael says, low and he hopes with as much meaning as he can muster. “Okay.”

He leans forward and Trevor gets the picture, his mouth surprisingly soft on Michael’s. They kiss gentler than Michael’s used to, just barely a drag of lips, and it feels like the end of a two week long argument. Trevor is smiling when he pulls back.

“What?” he asks, still with half a mind for that to worry him.

“Nothin’. We should get some more sleep.” Trevor throws an arm over Michael’s chest, making a place for himself in Michael’s armpit. “You’ll need some rest for later.”

Michael chuckles, looking up at the ceiling in confusion.

“What’s later?”

Trevor hums, snuggling his head against Michael’s chest.

“Well, porkchop, it’s only right that I return the favor.” 


End file.
